


P.O.I. High (Part 1)

by mother_finch



Series: P.O.I. High [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:46:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: I can't remember if I sent this prompt yet or not, but a college or high school au where Root is the nerdy computer science geek and everyone picks on her. When Shaw transfers to her school and becomes the new resident "bad ass", she takes a interest and liking to the dork with glasses. One dumb jock doesn't get the memo to stop picking on Root and Shaw teaches him a lesson. No one picks on Root after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	P.O.I. High (Part 1)

"Hey, loser!" A wad of paper smacks into Root Groves’s temple and she jumps, knocking her books off the library table. Looking over, she watches as a group of jocks laugh, smacking high fives as they walk away. Pushing her glasses up higher on her nose, Root leans over to collect her belongings.

She goes to grab a book, but a different hand is already scooping it up, along with a few loose pieces of paper. Looking up at him, she smiles. “Thanks, Harry.”

"You’re welcome. " He sits across from her at the small study table, taking out his personal copy of coding and computer hacks. "You shouldn’t let them treat you like that, Sam," he says, opening up to a random page. Root gives him a cross look.

"I told you, my name is  _Root_.” She insists.

"Oh. Right, sorry."

* * *

 

"I changed it in the school’s computer system and everything," she continues, a small amount of pride shining through. "New school year, new beginning."

"You  _wish_ ,” Harold retorts with a lopsided smile. Root merely sighs, immersing herself back into the novel. A moment later, the warning bell rings.

"Lunch is already over?" Harold complains, checking his watch. "I barely had any time after eating to relax."

"You’re good with changing electronics," Root says with a smirk, gathering her things. "Fix it."

With that, she drifts off, heading to her next period class. Literature. Not her favorite by any means, she’d rather have web design or science; however, being intelligent the class is a guaranteed A. Throughout the halls, she hears the other kids jeering at her, throwing scrap paper on occasion. She keeps her head down, trying to drown the nonsense out by escaping into her head.  _Great first day back,_  she thinks bitterly.

Within moments, she yanks open the classroom door, then slams it shut, sealing herself off from the tormentors. With a deep breath, she comes in, standing by the side cabinet.

"What’s your name, kid?" The teacher asks, her eyes a kind green.

"Root. Root Groves."

The woman scans down the attendance sheet. “That’s a peculiar name,” she says, then finds Root’s name. “I find it lovely. You sit right there.” She points to the first seat in the second row from the left. Root smiles at the complement, then heads to her chair. “You always in this early?”

"Most likely," Root responds, putting down her satchel. "I’m not a big fan of the hallways."

"I couldn’t agree more," the teacher says with an amiable expression. "I can’t stand the behemoths on the other side of that door." Root smiles in amusement, and the woman’s eyes crinkle behind cooper-rimmed glasses. "I’m Mrs. Highbrooks, by the way."

Before Root can say another word, the sounds of the hallway sweep into the room like a tidal wave, and a large swarm of students clamber in, laughing and shrieking, pushing and shoving. Within minutes, Mrs. Highbrooks assigns each person a seat. Root realizes that, unlike other classes, there is no visible pattern to the seating arrangement. Nothing if not a hacker at heart, Root sets to find an algorithm in this seemingly spasmodic code.

"Stop looking so hard, kid, your eyes are gonna pop out." Root blinks a few times, falling back into reality, when a fairly charming boy comes to stand behind her. "Looking for someone?" He asks.

"More like some _thing_.” With a shrug, he sits behind Root, slinging his bag carelessly to the ground. She takes in his sharp haircut, crisp denim jeans, and nice but crinkled short sleeve shirt. Meeting his icy blue eyes, Root turns back to face forward, and the bell rings.

"Good afternoon everyone," Mrs. Highbrooks greets, and everyone surprisingly quiets down. "I see we are all here except… one." She looks back through her pages, then sighs. "Hell of a first day for them, huh?" She asks, greeted by mild laughter.

"Alright," she claps her hands together, a more authoritative voice taking hold. "I am Mrs. Highbrooks, and we are going to start off with-" there is a knock on the classroom door.

She gestures with her hand, and the door opens, revealing the vice principal and a student Root has never seen before. She leans forward in her desk to catch a better look, and her heart goes funny. It hammers in her chest, and she fights to keep it at bay, eyes glued to this new, dazzling character.

She wears all black- black jeans with a fitting black t-shirt. She wears a pleather black jacket and black work boots. Her hair is pulled into a tight, dark ponytail, and a single rebellious strand falls in from of her beautiful face. She brings her hand up and tucks it swiftly behind her ear. Root’s brow furrows, trying to figure out why her mood shifted so rapidly at the sight of this person, and more so what that shift is.  _She looks like another of the type to harass me_ , Root acknowledges, scrunching her lips together in thought. Root watches as her eyes scan across the room, looking at no one for more than a split second, not an ounce of interest on her face. Then, her eyes connect with Root’s and Root freezes, breath caught. The eyes, a deep shade of brown, lock onto Root’s and stay there.  _Terrifying. Exhilarating_. Root is unsure which- perhaps both. The new girl gives Root a small, quick smirk. And just as before, she continues to examine the room with no interest; and once finished filing through the students, comes to a stop on Mrs. Highbrooks. The vice principal bids his farewell, and escapes back into the now deserted hallway.

"So, the roster marks you as a new transfer. Did you get lost?" Mrs. Highbrooks asks with a kind smile. She gets nothing in return but a blank expression.

"No."

One word sends Root’s heart leaping into her throat, and she tries not to choke.

"Oh?" The teacher asks, giving her a curious look. "Then why were you late?"

"Wasn’t gonna show up." She replies simply, and Mrs. Highbrooks stares, taken aback.

"Well, um, your seat is right over there." Root follows the teacher’s finger to the last, back seat against the wall- on the far side of the room. Without any reason, Root feels herself sulk down, and then her brow furrows in thought.  _Why?_

This mystery girl walks towards the empty desk, her walk more like floating on air, and Root realizes she carries no books.

"Everyone," Root is ripped from her thoughts at the teacher’s words, and she pulls her attention forward. "Please welcome our new student: Sameen Shaw."

 _Sameen Shaw_. Root watches the name swirl in her head, the syllables rolling around on her tongue.  _Sameen Shaw_ , she thinks with a small smile,  _I kinda like that._

________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

The next two days of school spin by in a haste of getting lost and getting textbooks, and Root realizes Thursday is already upon her.  _Almost made it a week through school,_  she tells herself, but it’s not so simple as it appears. She feels bombarded by loose leaf, drowned in words, and eaten alive by wicked stares. Worst of all, she hadn’t seen Sameen Shaw since. It was a nagging thought, always pushing its way out of the back of her mind. Walking through the school entrance, she gets her second dose of the new girl.

Already, she has a small group of friends, all boys and dressed in work boots and jeans- kids Root knows have a less than tidy records. She sees John, the boy that sits behind her in Literature among them, and notices his closer proximity. Sameen says something, and the delinquents rumble and hoot with laughter.

Sameen looks up, feeling eyes on her, and they meet Root’s. A brief smile catches Shaw’s face, sending Root’s nerves into an electric frenzy. And just as quickly as the gaze came, it disappears, Shaw submerging herself back into the conversation.

Suddenly, a hard shoulder checks Root. Unprepared and unsuspecting, she topples over, hitting the cold, tile ground with a thickening smack.

Instantly, there’s laughter, as a jock stands with self satisfaction before her. With two of his goons on each side, she tries to stand, but one takes the sole of his shoe and shoves her back down. Murder in her eyes, her hand clenches around her AP Calc textbook, ready to throw it their way, when- suddenly- the ring leader of their group is barreled to the side, toned body slamming against a wall of lockers. The shock wave of the impact rattles Root’s teeth.

She sees him pinned roughly against the locker, varsity jacket in disarray and white t-shirt front balled up in someone’s fist. Acknowledging who, Root can’t help but gawk. A whole foot smaller and a hundred pounds lighter, Sameen has a smoldering anger in her eyes as she slams him into the locker again, both hands gripping the collar of his shirt. He smiles laughably, but his eyes reveal fear.

"Can I  _help_  you?” He asks, and Root feels smug in hearing the tremble in his words. Sameen cocks her head to the side, haughty expression on her usually emotionless face.

"Yeah, you can," she retorts in an even tone, sending a shiver down Root’s spine. His smile falters. "You know something I don’t like?" She questions with venom in her voice. The hallways become eerily hushed. "I don’t like arrogant  _jockstraps._  Tell me something,” she adds with a conversational tone. “Are you an arrogant jockstrap?”

Eyes flaring with anger, the boy replies, “No.”

"Oh, so that wasn’t  _you_  who pushed her?” She asks with mock surprise. There is slight snickering from one of the students in the surrounding crowd. Others share silent whispers.

He swallows hard, but says nothing.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought." She slams him against the locker a third time, and he looks away with an angered sneer, face blooming with embarrassment. "Hey,  _look_  at me.” She spits, grabbing his jaw and wrenching it back her way. She brings his face dangerously close, eyes enough to kill. In a carrying growl, she says, “Stay the  _Hell_  away from her. You and your little  _buddies_.” With that, she shoves him across the lockers, and he stumbles back into his friends. Root sits on the ground, frozen.

Suddenly, there is a hand on Root’s forearm, and it pulls her up and away. “C’mon,” the recognizable voice of Harold meets her ear as he drags her from the ground and towards the circle of bystanders.

"Harold,  _wait_ ,” she fights against his grip to go back, to thank her. But the trance is shattered, and students start to zig zag before her view, making it nearly impossible to see. He struggles, but maintains his grip, pulling her towards their next class.

"We’ll grab your books later," he promises, as if that was her main concern. It isn’t. Straining her neck, she gets a glimpse of Sameen looking to the ground, eyes opening slightly in surprise to see no one there. A person walks through Root’s line of sight, and just like that, she’s gone. Root stops fighting, and easily walks with Harold off to their first period science class. Head reeling, Root can’t shake one thought from her cluttered head:  _She doesn’t even know my name._

__________\ We’ll Find You /________

Sitting in her seat, Root looks forward, lost in thought. The rows quickly fill, the two people who sit in front of her taking their seats, and Harold jabbering to her left. But she can’t hear him, can’t focus on a single word he says.

"Are you even  _listening_ , Root?” He asks, shaking her shoulder. She looks over at him, her daze slowly dissipating.

"Yes."

"No, you’re not."

"You’re right, I’m not." She gives him a small smile, and his face hardens with annoyance. As the bell rings, one last straggler walks through the classroom door. Out of the corner of her eye, Root sees a flash of long, dark hair wrapped in a ponytail.

"And where have you been the last three days,  _Miss. Shaw_?” The science teacher asks with ridicule, eyeing the student up and down. Instantly, Root’s head shoots straight ahead. She looks at the teacher, gray mustache twitching in annoyance, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the girl before him. Root’s heart stops.

"Bathroom stalls, library- anywhere but here, really," Sameen replies coolly, meeting his authoritative glare. He clicks his teeth in annoyance.

"Why?"

"Science isn’t really my thing," Shaw replies, scrunching her nose. Looking around the classroom, her eyes stop on Root. Eyes flickering, an almost microscopic smirk comes to her face. "But I can work on that." Leaving Mr. Bates in a tongue tied ball of rage and frustration, Sameen takes the empty seat to Root’s right.

"Hi there," she leans towards Root slightly with the greeting, and Root’s nerves jump.

"Uh, hi." She replies, mentally kicking herself for the brain glitch.

"I don’t think we’ve formally met," Shaw says, sticking out a smooth hand. "Sameen Shaw."

Startled, Root slowly extends her hand, loosely taking Sameen’s. “Root Groves.” Shaw gives her hand a hearty shake.

"Root Groves…" She muses, slipping her hand back onto her own desk. Root’s stays in place, then falls limp to her side. "I like it." Shaw says at last. Root smiles shakily. "You okay?" Shaw asks as Mr. Bates starts his lesson.

Root gawks a moment, then feverishly shakes her head.

"You  _scared_  of me?” Shaw asks with a dark smile.

"No."

Shaw sits back in her chair, a satisfied smile crossing her lips, revealing perfect teeth. “Good,” she replies. “Don’t be.” The two sit a minute, Shaw’s eyes scanning over Root, then trailing over to Harold. Her face instantly becomes neutral.

"What’re  _you_  looking at.” Root whips around to see Harold staring at Sameen like she’s a deranged beast in a cage. His eyes are pulled wide, and his crooked mouth is pulled into a worried diagonal. Root shoots him a cross look, and he immediately comes to.

"Nothing," he replies hastily, looking straight ahead. His fingers tap subconsciously on his desk. Sameen gives Root a questioning look, and is answered with a shrug of the shoulders. With that, Sameen looks forward, watching the teacher write equations and chemical compounds on the board. Root, too, watches, but cannot bring herself to focus on what is going on. Her mind screams and her heart hurts and her stomach is a knot. Finally, the bell rings.

Root watches Sameen stand, stretching out her arms, and heading to leave.

"Wait!" Root calls out, stumbling upwards beside her desk, scrambling to collect her books. Harold watches her with amazed interest. Shaw turns around from the front row of seats to look back at her. Now, having Sameen’s attention, her voice becomes much more quiet. Mustering strength, she breathes out smoothly. "Do you wanna sit with us at lunch?" She asks, gesturing to Harold. Sameen looks Root over a minute, and she fears the rejection she feels coming.

"Sure. Yeah, I’ll tell John…?" She waits, and Root shakes her head clear.

"Oh! Yeah, um Library."

"Library," Shaw agrees, nodding her head. Then, she’s gone. Walking towards the doorway, Harold finally unleashes his bottled up words.

"Are you  _mad_?” He fumes to Root.

"No, why?"

"You’re inviting  _her_  to eat lunch with  _us_!” His voice is pitchy. “You saw what she did to that kid today. Do you want to be a computer geek sandwich?”

Root laughs, opening the classroom door. “She’s not gonna do that, Harry.” She responds, heading into the hall.

"How do  _you_  know that?” He responds.

Root shrugs, eyes glowing. “I just do.”

____________\ P.O.I. High /_____________

Walking down the hallway, Root feels a hop in her step as she heads towards the school’s library. Looking left to right, she is delighted by the buzz of people- none of which are taunting her. Not a piece of paper, not a name, just bliss. Heading down a side corridor, she hears a boy shriek, and looks to the nearest door.

He is cowering in the door frame, eyes saucers in his head.

"What did you call  _me_?” The familiar voice asks tersely, one hand on either side of the frame.

"S-s-Sam," he sputters.

"Don’t call me that." She sneers. Looking up, she sees Root watching her. Without another word, she pushes herself from the frame, and walks her way. The boy runs from sight.  _Note to self_ , Root starts, watching as Sameen strolls forward,  _she doesn’t like to be called_ -

"Hey, there."

"Hi, Sam." Her eyes bulge the second the words leave her mouth. Mind too preoccupied with banishing the nickname, she is overcome with terror as it slips. Not a fear  _of_ Shaw, but a fear of  _losing_  her. “I mean- I just- uh-“

"Where do you sit?" Sameen asks, standing beside Root, then starting towards the library.

"Wait, you’re not mad I-"

"No."

"But you just-"

Sameen’s intense eyes make Root stop, the words running back down her throat. “You can be the exception to that rule.” Root feels her heart soar, and she hopes Sameen can’t notice. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

Together, they walk down the hallway, and finally enter the Library. Root searches the premises, and sees Harold flagging her over. At his right is John Reese, who sits back in his chair with crossed arms. Smiling, Root hustles forward, and Shaw follows. Sitting, Root notices Harold typing on his phone, eyes glued to the screen.

"Finally fixing those bells?" She asks, pulling an apple and sandwich from her bag. He doesn’t reply, too submerged.

"He’s talking to a  _girl_ ,” John says with a smirk, already friendly towards her best friend. “Doing a poor job at it frankly.”

Harold sighs. “I told you, she likes computers and intelligence, not empty brains and fancy cars.” John looks at him, eyes in slits, but breaks into a laugh.

"Is that what you think’s in  _here_?” He asks humorously, tapping at his temple. Harold looks up at him with a flat look. “Listen, Finch, there is more to my mind then blank space. How else would I be in all the same class levels as  _you?_ " Harold shrugs, a small smirk on his face.

"Beats me how you pulled that  _rouse_  off.”

"Who is she?" Root interrupts their boyish banter.

"She doesn’t go to our school."

"Harold." Root shoots him an icy glare.

"Her name’s Grace."

” _Oooh, Grace_ ,” Root taunts, leaning back in her chair, taking a bite of her sandwich. Noticing how quiet Sameen is, Root looks to her right. Instantly, her eyes enlarge.

In that short amount of time, a medium potato chip bag, a can of Coke, and a granola bar wrapper are in a discarded heap, and she works her way to the half way mark of a large sub.

"Oh my…" Root trails off, mouth agape. Sameen gives her an amused look. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she replies,

"I told you I was hungry." Root merely nods, watching as she inhales the rest of the sandwich. She licks her lips, then steals a french fry from John’s lunch tray.

"Hey!" He yells, hand reaching towards his stolen food, but it is already lost in Shaw’s mouth. "This is why I can’t sit with you at lunch," he grumbles. "You eat like a  _trucker_.” She shoots him a cross glare, chewing the fry. Root grabs her apple and places it in front of Shaw. A taken aback expression crosses her face, then a warm smile.

"My kind of girl," Sameen says casually, rubbing it clean on her pant leg. Root looks down to her sandwich, letting her hair fall like a curtain down the side of her face, not wanting Sameen to see the toothy smile growing on her face, nor the bright blush of her cheeks. Peering up, she sees Harold looking at her, trying to hide a knowing smile. He raises his eyebrows at her, then turns to listen to John talk.

"You okay?" Sameen asks, pulling Root’s hair back from her face and tucking it carefully behind her ear. Root’s nerves explode. She gives Sameen a large smile.

"Never better."


End file.
